Mercy
by scangel72
Summary: What if the Universe gave as much as it took away? Would the results be beyond anything imaginable? PostDoomsdayAU
1. Chapter 1

Title: Mercy (1/14?)

Author: scangel72

Rating: M

Characters: Rose, Ten, Others

Spoilers: Up through s2

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to play in the BBC's sandbox

A/N: Written for the Rose Tyler Ficathon, specifically for lafemmepapillon . I'm not going to list what she requested yet, because that would ruin the surprise! Thanks, as always, to the magnificent beta-babes, Wendymr, Dark Aegis and Manticoran!

Summary: What if the Universe gave as much as it took away? Would the results be beyond anything imaginable

Prologue

_ "The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as a gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath; It is twice-blessed: It blesseth him who gives and him that takes."_

_-William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice_

The winds of war blew bitter and cold as two god-like races battled for dominance over all the universe and perhaps even beyond. As the storm clouds roiled on the horizon, two returned to the cradle of life as they knew it. The first, a prodigy among her people, was quickly embraced and raised to a position of prominence, the hopes of many pinned upon her ability to lead her people to victory.

The second was one often looked down upon by his people; persecuted, reviled and feared at times as well, but it was also known that he of all of them would be willing to pay the ultimate price. His passion was that great.

And so the titans clashed. Civilizations fell, populations were wiped from existence and entire planets were destroyed, yet still the battle continued. She who had returned from such a long absence fought fiercely for her people in every way she could, introducing alien technologies she had come across in her travels. She was realistic, knowing what so few were willing to admit: That her people, no matter their moral right, could be destroyed in the coming chaos. Plans were made. The first Void ship was built, studied and perfected in order that her people might survive in some form if the unimaginable happened.

Just when hope seemed to glimmer, the enemy struck with terrifying ferocity. The Void ship was taken as the last stronghold of Arcadia fell. A death knell began to toll through the Universe. A second ship was feverishly begun in deepest secret, but she who so proudly led her people knew hope was slim that any would be saved as the enemy marched ever close, Death a constant chill in the air.

So she called on the other; the one whom some blamed that the enemy even existed; he who had fought tirelessly throughout the war for his home and his people, even though they had rarely seen eye to eye. His love was great enough to encompass the good and the bad. And because of that, weary and battle-worn, he was given the impossible task. He did not want it, but she who led and knew him so well reduced herself to beg and in the end he could do nothing but agree, as they both knew he would.

As the enemy converged, preparing for one last push to seize all they wanted, he waited in the shadows. Waited as his people made their last stand. Waited and prayed that some miracle would occur and he would not have to fulfill the task which he had agreed to undertake.

The gods were not listening.

In then end, his hearts breaking with the agony of his task, he endured and saw it through, setting in motion a cataclysmic event that would indeed end the war, but also end the existence of his people, his planet, his home and finally his own life.

He closed his eyes and waited for Death to arrive, missing the hope of life that sparked though the sky and disappeared into the blackness.

On a forgotten, craggy beach in a remote part of Scotland near the ocean, a massive sphere rests among craggy rock and chunks of earth, looking almost like some sort of gigantic egg sitting in a strange sort of nest. Contrasting against the rock and sand and spray around it, the sphere is a sickly grey-green and puts off a strange sense of unease. No human eyes have seen it, but it is enough that the local wildlife shies away from its presence.

The sphere had hurtled from the sky on a day when the world very easily could have ended. And that is the very reason why it had gone undetected by those who watch for unusual happenings such as strange, alien spheres dropping from the sky. That was the day when the Cybermen created by Charles Lumic crossed over into another universe, battled Daleks and were eventually defeated by one known only as 'the Doctor'. On that day there was joy and celebration, but also anguish and loss. So much loss.

Unbeknownst to the players in the grand game, change was soon to follow

_ Chapter One_

**_Then must you speak… of one that loved not wisely but too well." -Othello_**

Rose stood at the window with a cup of tea in her hand, sipping and watching the sun paint the few fat clouds in the sky oranges and pinks and purples. It was funny how quickly life could change. She smiled and shook her head. It was even funnier that she of all people should think such a thing. After spending more than two years with the Doctor, she knew how swiftly everything could change: people, places, entire planets and universes.

She took another sip of her tea and sank down on the edge of the window seat, lost in thought. The real irony was how little all the cataclysmic events she'd seen and nearly died in had changed her perspective at the time; and how, now that she was beyond them, all the lessons she'd missed then seemed so crystal clear. Granted, there was the old saying about hindsight, which was true, but even so there was more to the story.

A soft step and the clearing of a throat brought Rose out of her musings to look up with a smile. "Mornin'," she said, standing and setting her cup on the sideboard. Sometimes it still felt a little surreal to see Pete Tyler standing there as large as life. But he was more than 'Pete' to her now. He was her father. Had been since the night she'd dreamed of the Doctor and he'd never once treated her like she was losing her mind. He'd understood—as much as he could—and been kind and caring. Loving, even. That's why it was easy to go up to him and give him a hug. Call him Dad. They'd both accepted the relationship and were happier for it.

"Ready to go?" he asked with a smile of his own, holding out her coat.

Rose slid her arms into the coat and nodded. "Yeah, although I'm still thinkin' it should be illegal for anyone to be up at this hour," she joked.

"Your mother agrees," Pete said wryly, leading the way out to the garage. The sleek black car he drove was already idling, warm and toasty inside like it was every morning. "Speaking of your mother," he added, holding the door open while she slid into the passenger seat, "you did eat something, didn't you? I'll owe her a pound of flesh when I get home if you haven't."

Rose shook her head as Pete shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. "Two pieces of toast and a banana," she said with only a slight pang at the mention of that particular fruit. It drifted by like running water. She was used to 'pangs' and had found that fighting them made it worse. Letting them move along helped her do the same.

"Good, good," Peter said absently as he backed the car out, slipping his sunglasses on with one hand. "Maybe we'll have a quiet day today and you can actually get home in time for her to fuss over you. I've already made sure the driver's available since I'll probably still be in the meeting with the Japanese contingent."

"You know I'm perfectly capable of drivin' myself home," Rose sighed, popping on her own glasses and wrinkling her nose. Jackie was going to drive her utterly insane, fluttering about and smothering her.

Pete glanced over with a sympathetic look. "Pound of flesh, Rose. Pound of flesh."

Rose chuckled in spite of herself. "Yeah and she'd take it, too. The most painful way she could think of."

This time Pete smiled broadly. "That's my Jacks."

Quiet fell after Rose nodded in agreement, her attention on little but her own thoughts. Happy didn't even begin to describe how she felt about her mother finding Pete. It seemed like they were each the best parts of what the other had lost. She smiled a bit sadly, wishing…. No. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself against the path her thoughts wanted to travel down. There wasn't one positive thing about wallowing in that part of her past. The future was at stake and nothing was going to induce her to risk it.

Pete's voice interrupted her thoughts once more. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, Rose."

She blinked and glanced over, somewhat surprised. His voice was solemn and for a second her heart skipped a beat, wondering what bad news he'd been keeping from her. "Okay," she responded slowly.

"It's just… well, I know the last five months have been hard for you in a way I can't understand. Well, maybe I understand a little since I lost Jackie that first time. For everything she was—and wasn't—I did love her," he said, glancing over quickly before focusing on the road again.

"Anyway, I know it's been tough. And going to get tougher. I really thought that you might… you know, fall apart. But you surprised me, Rose," Pete admitted haltingly. "Coming to Torchwood, really getting involved, making a name for yourself there… It makes me proud that your last name is Tyler, even if I didn't have anything to do with it."

Rose stared at him with her mouth open for several second before a choked little sob escaped. "Damn it," she muttered, searching through her purse for a tissue. "I'm sorry. Just… you know."

She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes under her sunglasses, hoping she wasn't going to look like a raccoon by the time they got to the office. Taking a deep breath, she got herself under control and glanced back over at Pete. "Thank you. I mean that. I know mum thinks I'm crazy—Mickey too, for that matter—but I have to do this. I mean, I have to do something other than sit around and think, but even more—"

"I do understand. Too many people underestimated you, Rose. I did. But you've seen a lot and learned a lot and you're smart. That's what Torchwood needs. I won't be here forever and you and I both know that having a position of power by that time is the surest way to protect everyone," Pete said evenly.

Rose nodded and leaned her head back against the headrest, smiling bemusedly up at the ceiling. "Sometimes it feels like I'm dreamin', you know? Like I'm still a shop girl with no prospects and nothin' better to do than watch telly and eat chips and in a little while my alarm'll go off and I'll wake up."

Pete snorted. "I know assets, Rose and that, I assure you, would have been a complete waste."

"Yeah, the Doctor used to say the same thing," she murmured. "Used to say I was the best."

There was a heavy silence for a moment. Everyone still flinched a bit when she mentioned the Doctor. But Pete, ever stalwart, overcame the moment and nodded. "He was evidently a brilliant judge of character."

For a minute she was on the verge of tears again, but she fought it back with a few deep breaths. Equilibrium restored, she realized they were pulling into the Tower.

"Torchwood one and Torchwood twelve," Peter said into his specialized mobile, rolling down the windows so each of them could give fingerprint and retinal scans. Once the scans were accepted, the heavy blast door rose to allow the car into the garage. It was only the first in a long corridor of security measures to go through before they got to their offices.

Another day in the life of Rose Tyler had begun.

"What are you drinkin'?" Mickey asked accusingly, picking up her mug off the desk and taking a sip before eyeing her suspiciously. "This decaf? And d'you think you need to be puttin' that much sugar in it? Neither of those're gonna help you sleep, you know. Are you sleepin'? If not, maybe you should see that doctor again. But sleepin' too much isn't good either. You gotta have balance."

Rose rolled her eyes and went back to her paperwork while Jake smirked and flopped on the sofa in her office. Mickey continued to circle the desk like a vulture, looking for something—anything—to justify his paranoia.

"So, how was Bucharest?" she asked, signing her name to the bottom of a report and closing the folder before she sat back in her chair.

"Dunno 'bout those shoes, Rose. What if you have to run or somethin'? You could break an ankle. Where would you be then?" Mickey asked, frowning down at her feet through the clear glass top of her desk.

She looked over at Jake and sighed. "I hate to do this to you, but I'm goin' t'have to have him killed."

Jake laughed. "You don't have high enough clearance for that."

"Damn," Rose muttered, then glared at Mickey. "Will you sit down? You're making me crazy walkin' in circles. Bloody mother hen. I promise I don't fall to pieces when you're gone. "

Mickey made a face at her in return and stomped over to the sofa in a strop. "Sorry if I'm tryin' to take care of you. Maybe if you'd take care of yourself, I wouldn't have to."

"Hey, that's not fair," Jake exclaimed, giving Mickey's knee and nudge with his own. "Rose looks great to me."

"Thanks," Rose replied with a grin in spite of herself. "I i am /i takin' care of myself. Don't have a choice. Have you met my mother?" she asked sarcastically.

"I'm surprised Jackie don't have you locked up in a tower at that bloody castle of your father's," Mickey said in a smug sort of way.

"Don't think she hasn't tried," Rose sighed. "If it wasn't for Pete, she'd probably have me tied down in bed under night an' day doctor's care or somethin', just waitin' for me to have a nervous breakdown." She shuddered at the thought. "Anyway, you were goin' to tell me about Bucharest?"

"Oh yeah," Jake grinned. "Vampires. Brilliant."

Mickey shook his head. "Still can't believe you never had Buffy here. Was just like that. Sorta."

Rose frowned. "Buffy?"

"As in the vampire slayer," Mickey said with a disgusted look. "You know, like the show on telly, back in the old days." He always referred to life in other universe as 'the old days'.

"Yeah, except we're pretty sure these vampires didn't come from this planet. Don't think Buffy had that problem," Rose said wryly.

That seemed to take a little of the wind out of Mickey's sails. Jake grinned at him and shrugged. "Either way, the problem's taken care of. We rigged up a few crossbows while the negotiator worked, just to be safe. Good thing, too. Not sure we could have taken care of the problem if we had to go hand to hand."

Rose nodded thoughtfully. "No ship, then?"

"Nah. Found transmat beacons, though," Mickey said, having given up on his Buffy obsession for the moment. "Downstairs is already doin' long-range scans, tryin' to see if there's a cloaked ship floatin' around up there somewhere."

"Good," Rose said, typing in a few commands on the keyboard to her right and requesting access to the scans via her terminal. After finding out the Daleks had been hiding in space for generations she'd never been quite so willing to trust her eyes or anyone else's. Too easy to hide something in plain sight.

When she looked up, Mickey and Jake were talking under their breath to each other. "I miss something?" she asked curiously. She knew the look on Mickey's face and it didn't bode well.

"Nah, just off for some lunch," Jake said, bouncing up and heading for the door. "Can I bring you anything, Rose?"

She was on the verge of asking for fish and chips but Mickey jumped in before she could open her mouth. "Piece of quiche from that little café on the corner. An' the fruit bowl to go with it. An' a bottle of water."

Rose groaned and just nodded at Jake when he shot her a questioning look. Sometimes it wasn't worth the effort to argue Mickey out of his need to mother her. Still, she knew what was coming and dreaded it as Jake closed the door behind him.

Mickey came around the side of the desk and squatted down next to her chair. "Have you thought anymore 'bout what I asked you before I left for Romania?"

"Mickey, please…" she began, really not wanting to go through it all again.

"Rose, you gotta think about it. S'not right, you bein' alone, grievin' still…" he insisted.

She shook her head. Mickey had the best of intentions, but it had to stop. "Mickey," she said gently, "you know I don't… I don't love you that way. Too much has changed."

He nodded earnestly. "I know an' that's okay. But I can't let you—"

Rose pulled out the proverbial big guns. "What about Jake?"

Mickey blinked at her and stopped dead. They'd never discussed just how close he and Jake were, but Rose would have bet quite a lot that they were more than friends. "What… what d'you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Come on, Mickey, you an' I know each other better than that. I've got eyes, y'know. An' just because I've got a lot goin' on doesn't mean I'm blind," Rose said wryly.

He gaped like a fish out of water. "I… I… Rose…"

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "It's okay. It really is. All I want is for you to be happy, and if Jake's the one that does that for you, s'all the same to me."

Mickey shook his head. "You sure it's not too weird? I mean, after you an' me bein' together in the old days, now me an' Jake..." he trailed off.

Rose thought about for a minute and shrugged. "Maybe a little, but not so it's bad or anything. Believe me, I saw a lot weirder stuff when I was travelin' with the Doctor. Especially when Jack was with us. Now there was a bloke who was i flexible /i " She grinned.

Mickey'd gone very quiet. "S'weird when you talk about 'em, Rose. I'm not sayin' you shouldn't," he quickly added. "Just… weird. 'Cause it sort of feels like it would be better if we just forgot or something."

"I can't," Rose said, shaking her head. "I know it makes you and mum feel uncomfortable, but sometimes I have to talk about it. Otherwise I'd bottle it all up and just explode someday. The Doctor was part of my life, Mickey. Always will be, especially now. You can't expect me never to mention him."

"Jake said the same thing," Mickey muttered.

Rose laughed. "Smart man, that Jake. Guess that makes him the husband, yeah?"

"Hey! No need to be rude," Mickey exclaimed, shooting her a face as he stood. Once on his feet, he studied her for a moment before he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Guess that means you're not gonna be Mrs. Smith anytime soon then, huh?"

"I'm kind of partial to 'Ms. Tyler'," Rose said with a smile. "I love you for askin', though. An' I mean that. But I will seriously hurt you if you ask me again. I finally figured out I don't have to be somebody's girlfriend or companion or even their wife. Just bein' Rose is okay."

Mickey laughed and backed away, hands held in the air in surrender. "Yeah, yeah, even I get it now," he said, looking more light-hearted than he had earlier. She figured he'd probably been agonizing over the marriage idea the whole time he and Jake were in Bucharest.

He made it all the way to the door before he stopped and turned again. "I'm still thinkin' you need to get a better pair of shoes. I was readin' about how—"

She took off one of the shoes in question and threw it at him. Mickey was fast enough to get out and close the door so the heel only i thunked /i against the wood. Rose grinned fondly and shook her head. "Idiot."

After retrieving the shoe, she walked over to the bank of windows that looked down at the Thames far below. So many times she'd looked at the same view and thought of another Torchwood Tower in another universe and all she'd lost. Today, she looked at the view and thought more about all she'd gained. Yes, there was still pain. There was still grief. And god knew there was fear, but there was also hope. Hope, and surprisingly, happiness.

With a smile full of determination—one she was becoming famous for—she paused just long enough to briefly rest a hand against the window before returning to her work. Empires weren't built in a day and she had much to accomplish.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Mercy (2/14)

Author: scangel72

Rating: M

Characters: Rose, Ten, Others

Spoilers: Up through s2

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to play in the BBC's sandbox

A/N: Written for Wendymr and Dark Aegis' Rose Tyler Ficathon, specifically for Lafemmepapillon . I'm not going to list what she requested yet, because that would ruin the surprise! Thanks, as always, to the magnificent beta-babes, Wendymr, Dark Aegis and Manticoran !

Summary: What if the Universe gave as much as it took away? Would the results be beyond anything imaginable?

Chapter Two

"Now is the winter of our discontent."

-From _King Richard III_

_The nightmare was the same as it had been for months. Faces paraded in front of him, friends and family, each beloved to him, each lost or left behind. And each of them was in pain. They needed him, but he had walked away and had no way back. Rose appeared before him, arms outstretched, calling, beckoning him to her. Pain knifed through him, sharp with the knowledge that he would never know the feeling of her arms around him or her hand in his. _

_Then the dream changed. Rose smiled at him, the look in her eyes solemn and sad, yet full of an ancient wisdom that should not have been hers. He blinked to dispel the sight and when he opened his eyes, everything had changed. The indistinct mist was gone and he stood hand in hand with Rose on the apple grass of New Earth. The wind was blowing her hair as she smiled up at him. He couldn't help smiling back, warmed from the inside out simply at being there with her again. _

"_Come with me," she said, stepping away and giving his hand a tug. _

_He frowned and glanced around, realizing he could see nothing but grass and the horizon for miles and miles. "Where?"_

_Rose tilted her head at him. "Do you trust me, Doctor?"_

"_Always."_

_Her brilliant smile blinded him. He blinked and the scene changed once more. This time he was on Platform One where he'd brought Rose to watch the Earth die so very long ago. But it wasn't as he remembered it. There was a feeling of cold disuse to the place. He shivered and was surprised when someone squeezed his hand. Glancing down, he realized Rose was still with him and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. _

"_Do you know where we are?" she asked curiously. _

_He glanced out the large window looking out into space and felt a stab of panic when he recognized the constellations and the place where a planet used to be, but existed no more. "How do you know this place?" he demanded._

"_I know much, Doctor," she replied gently. _

_He searched her eyes for some hint of what was going on, but they were shuttered and enigmatic. "But… I don't understand."_

"_That's all right. I do." Rose paused and looked at him curiously for a moment before repeating her earlier question. "Do you trust me?"_

"_I already said that I do," he said with a frown. _

"_Good, because it is time, Doctor. The waiting is nearly done." _

"_Waiting?" he asked, feeling his hearts skip a beat. "Waiting for what?"_

_She smiled at him, mischievous, her eyes dancing as her body started to fade away like mist. "Come to me, Doctor. It is time."_

"_Time? Time for what?" he begged, trying to grasp her hand and hold her there, but it was no use. Rose faded away, leaving him wrapped in her soft scent and the echo of her last words. "It is time…" /i _

With a gasp, the Doctor sat up in bed, the room dark and the sheets tangled around him. He shivered, his skin clammy with a fine sheen of perspiration. Groaning, he pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them, head in his hands. There had been something terribly i real /i about the dream. Some purpose behind Rose's cryptic words that he wasn't getting. Or maybe he was simply going insane. It was entirely possible.

Sighing heavily, the Doctor threw back the sheets and padded off to the shower, intending to wash away the dregs of the strange dream. He stepped under the steaming spray, braced his hands against the wall and closed his eyes. The nightmare had started out the same as it did every time he finally gave up the battle and allowed his body to rest. Each time he slept, his subconscious seemed to ruthlessly batter at him over the loss of so many, but Rose in particular.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn't surprised. For so long he'd struggled against allowing their relationship to become more than it should be. He'd been distant, thrown up roadblocks, even allowed himself to be intimate with another woman, all in an effort to protect himself from the pain when—not if—he lost Rose. Losing her had been inevitable, as was the pain it brought. The only measure of control he'd had was in how much of his soul he gave her before the time had come.

In the end, his struggle had been in vain. After thinking the TARDIS was lost, facing the Beast and his fear that the Beast's prophecy could be true, all the walls he'd built against Rose had crumbled like a sandcastle assaulted by the tide. He'd run to her in the middle of the night when her nightmares left her screaming in terror. He'd slipped into her bed to hold and comfort her. Not long after, when he slipped into her body, she'd comforted him as well.

Later, Rose sleeping in his arms, the transition from companion to lover made with terrifying ease, the Doctor stared at the ceiling and wondered what sort of madness he'd just prescribed for himself. He loved the woman in his arms, despite his inability to say the words, but there were so many reasons he shouldn't: The intensity between them was almost frightening. She'd have expectations that he could never fulfill. He was jaded and cynical, despite being better at hiding it than he had been. She was an infant and he was ancient. And when she was gone, he would be broken. Even knowing all that, he couldn't stop himself.

And now, seven months since he'd lost her—four since he'd said goodbye, leaving her on that desolate beach—and he still hadn't been able to pick up the pieces. In the past, when a companion had left or been left behind, even though it hurt, he'd been able to compartmentalize them. Say goodbye and then shut the memory away in that hidden place not too far from his heart where all his lost loves were kept in perpetuity. He hadn't been able to do that with Rose and it was driving him mad. Living by just going through the motions wasn't living at all.

Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, rubbing it roughly over his body as he tried to hold the memories at bay. The effort was wasted. In his mind's eyes, he could see Rose, flushed and smiling, draped only in a damp towel after he'd made love to her there in the shower. His addiction to her had been complete, all the more so because she had never pushed him for a declaration, nor had she—to his surprise—made any of her own. Until that day on the beach in Norway. But he had already known her feelings as well as he had prayed she knew his.

The Doctor pulled his thoughts back to the present and stalked back into the bedroom, cursing his own weakness. He'd built the hell he was existing in with his own two hands. He was going to have to claw his way out of it.

With jerky movements speaking much of his frustration and tension, he dressed and made his way out to the console room, intent on finding a revolution somewhere to immerse himself in. And maybe he could find someone he was interested in traveling with as well. He knew it was long past time to find another warm body to occupy the TARDIS with him and help dispel the ghosts that haunted his every moment.

A soft i beep /i caught his attention as he reached out to twirl a dial. He paused, glanced up at the screen on the console and frowned. Coordinates had already been entered and were only waiting for the command to execute. His eyes widened as he realized exactly where the coordinates would take him. He stared for a moment then forcefully jammed his finger at a button that would wipe them away.

Grimly wondering if there were some short in the TARDIS memory banks that had drawn up that location, the Doctor went about checking systems when another insistent i beep /i drew his head up. Once again, the coordinates were on the screen. He felt cold.

"What are you playing at?" he asked the TARDIS sharply, erasing the contents of the screen a second time.

The TARDIS suddenly pulsed with energy, every light on the console shining bright enough to blind him. There was a sense of excitement coming off the ship in waves; almost a giddy anticipation. The coordinates were back again.

"I don't understand!" the Doctor shouted, desperation lacing his voice. He couldn't go there. Wouldn't. It was bad enough that he was still struggling to cope with the loss of Rose. Going back to where Gallifrey had once existed was unthinkable.

The TARDIS' lights dimmed a bit, but there was still a sense of vibrant anticipation about her as the screen flashed at him. And then the words of his dream were echoing through his mind once more:

_"It is time, Doctor. The waiting is nearly done." _

He exhaled slowly and fought back the tide of panic that had threatened to swamp him at the idea of returning to the scene of his most heinous crime. Why now? Why, when he was so very alone that his bones ached with it?

There was no one to answer his silent questions. He struggled for a moment more, trying to reject the inevitability of returning to where his home used to exist, but it was a futile exercise. Even in his grief, the Doctor recognized that there were outside forces pulling on him. The question was why. The answer…

The Doctor sighed. The answer most likely lay where those coordinates would lead him. Granted, he had choices. He could force the issue with the TARDIS and take himself off to the furthest edge of the universe, away from Gallifreyan space. Or could he take the path of the least resistance and go, hoping there were answers to be found and not simply more pain and complicated questions.

For just a moment more, he hesitated before his shoulders slumped and he gave in to what seemed to be inevitable. Features drawn, he gave the TARDIS her head and sent them on their way.

* * *

As soon as he stepped out the TARDIS doors, the Doctor felt a sense of uneasy anticipation. Someone or something had brought an eerily similar facsimile of Platform One to the hollow place in the universe where his home used to exist. It was as if he'd stepped into his dreamscape. The observation platform was dark and cold, like a house left too long without the warmth of occupation. Even the soft hum of maintenance machinery seemed absent. The utter stillness was unnerving.

For just a second he forgot when and where he was and almost pulled one hand out of his pocket to reach for Rose. Her presence had been so strong in the dream that it overlapped reality, leaving him stung when he realized what he'd almost done. Jaw clenched, he strode to the mammoth window looking out into space. Gallifreyan space, to be exact.

Where his home planet used to exist, there now only floated random bits of rock and other flotsam, the only products left of the massive destruction. The Doctor stood rigid and silent as the memories crashed over him. So much horror and pain and death. So much he could have—should have—prevented.

Leaning forward, he rested his head against the thickly shielded plexiglass and looked down in the endless expanse of space, stars twinkling in every direction. There was still a very dark part of him that wished he had died along with his people that final day. But for some reason the universe seemed to enjoy seeing him clawing his way into some semblance of a life, day after day. He'd done it before Rose and he would do it again. _Could_ do it again, at least. It was just that he was so very tired of losing everything he loved.

A soft whooshing noise broke the Doctor's dark mental meanderings, but he didn't turn. Someone had led him to this place. He would have been naïve not to expect company at some point.

"_So, Doctor, we meet again_," a deep, rich voice echoed in his mind.

The Doctor's eyes widened and he turned, his surprise written on his pale features. "The Face of Boe. I didn't think… I mean, it didn't occur to me…"

_"Not so surprising. You have had much on your mind of late,"_ the Face of Boe replied gently, his expressive eyes radiating sympathy.

"Been watching, have you?" the Doctor asked, rocking back on his heels, hands jammed in his pockets as he tried to decide how he felt about the idea.

The Face of Boe chuckled softly._ "To an extent. But of course you of all people know that there are those who exist solely to watch and silently guide."_

"Not always so silently," the Doctor said flatly, suddenly reminded of the Guardians. He wondered if the Black Guardian had celebrated the death of the Time Lords. His eyes narrowed. "How do I know you are really the Face of Boe and not… some other?"

_"Because you have seen through the ruse before, Doctor,"_ the Face of Boe replied calmly.

The Doctor's expression tightened. "How… No, switch that. What do you know about it?" he asked sharply.

The Face of Boe seemed amused. _"I know that you were charged to collect the Key to Time so that the White Guardian could restore balance to the universe, and his counterpart, the Black Guardian, did all in his power to stop you. I believe he even impersonated the White Guardian in order to gain the Key, did he not?" _

"Whoever your source is, they're good," the Doctor muttered.

Once again a soft chuckle came from the Face of Boe. _"But, as I said, Doctor, you were able to discern the truth there. Can you not do it here as well? What do your senses tell you about me?"_

With a short nod, the Doctor relented. He sensed nothing deceitful or untrustworthy from the Face of Boe as the ancient being moved forward in his tank, looking out into space.

"_You are called so many names by so many_," the Face of Boe went on, seeming to take the nod as acceptance_. "The Oncoming Storm. The Man Without a Home. The Lonely God. The Wanderer. I wonder if any of them really name you in truth._"

The Doctor shrugged. "Not to be rude—especially since I do seem to have a problem with that—but is there a point to all this or should I just break out tea and biscuits and settle in for a visit and a nosh?"

_"No, Doctor, there is a point. I told you the last time we met that there was a truth to be told."_

"That feels like such a long time ago," the Doctor murmured, looking far away for a moment. "Rose—" He stopped as something occurred to him, his gaze fixing on the being in the tank next to him. "That was you in my dream, wasn't it? Using Rose to get to me."

The Face of Boe nodded. _"Indeed, it was. Her image was—is—so very strong in your mind, Doctor. Besides, she was there the first two times you and I met. It seemed fitting that she should be a part of the third."_

The Doctor pursed his lips. Despite his slip, he had no intention of discussing Rose. It was bad enough that she occupied his thoughts to the extent she did. Having a conversation about her would only make his problem worse. "You said there was a truth to be told," he said conversationally, as if his companion hadn't even spoken.

There was silence for a moment as the Face of Boe watched him, the enigmatic alien's face full of some emotion the Doctor couldn't describe. _"Very well. It is as you say, Doctor. When we last met, I promised you a truth and now it is time." _

Again, there was quiet, but this time the Doctor felt a sense of ancient power flare and permeate the room, sinking into him and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. In that moment, he could very well believe the Face of Boe was indeed as old as legend wanted to claim. Then the eyes closed and he began to speak.

_"In a time before time, when even the lesser gods were in their infancy, there was a foretelling. A foretelling that was hidden from all but a trusted few so that the universe would remain whole and not ripped asunder by those seeking to refute what had been seen.." _

The Doctor opened his mouth to question, but the Face of Boe went on before he could make a sound.

_"And so it was said: The lesser gods will depart from all that is known and leave a remnant of their darker natures behind, leaving as their legacy all things hostile to the nature of the soul. Only one, a wanderer, will remain to stand witness to what was, what is and what shall be. Then in time the darkness will tremble into chaos, and all things good will begin to disappear. The one must sacrifice his soul to stop the conflagration. But when all this has befallen, when that which is foretold has come to pass, the balance of the universe shall be restored. Those who have gone shall be recovered, yet changed, plucked from the fiercest fire to begin anew. And the wanderer, the one who stood alone, shall find his home once more." _

A feather landing on the floor would have sounded like an explosion in the aftermath of that comment. The Doctor blinked and stared at the Face of Boe with a slightly open mouth. "Yes. Well." Unable to find something more coherent to say in that exact moment, he focused on the vastness of space spread out before them.

"My home is gone and will never be again," he finally said hollowly, staring at the place where Gallifrey once hung among the stars. "They're all gone. And the irony is that, when they were alive, I ran as far and as fast as I could. But now…"

The Doctor shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore. I know the penance for my crimes. Besides," he added with a look that would have been careless if it hadn't been for the darkness in his eyes, "I've always found prophecies to be dodgy things. Even if they do come true, they rarely end up meaning what you thought they would."

He glanced over at the Face of Boe. "There isn't any more, is there? Any translation you might like to offer just so I'm not tearing my heart out wondering at the possibilities?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

_"No, Doctor. I have imparted the truth with which I was entrusted so very long ago,_" /i the Face of Boe said, obviously undisturbed by the Doctor's tone. i_ "And now I must go. I am weary and it is time that I rest."_

"I know the feeling," the Doctor muttered under his breath.

The Face of Boe smiled sympathetically. _"I imagine you do. But you have much yet to accomplish, Doctor. There are things to be done that you do not even dream of as yet."_

The Doctor sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of."

With a soft laugh, the Face of Boe shifted in his tank. _"What is the saying, Doctor? That those with great strength are given great burdens?"_

A thoughtful grunt was the Doctor's only answer. His mind was still turning the so-called prophecy over, trying to make sense of it.

_"And now it is time for goodbye. This will be the last time we meet, Doctor,"_ the Face of Boe said softly as his image shifted and shimmered, beginning to slowly fade away. _"Remember what I have told you. The time draws near…" _

tbc


End file.
